Under the Bridge
by The Feline Overlord
Summary: Sometimes, things don't turn out as planned. Sometimes there might be more to your rival than meets the eye. And sometimes, somehow, you just might find yourself falling for him.


**Disclaimer: I don't own Total Drama. Surprise, surprise.**

 **Dear Readers: This is my first time writing a.) romance and b.) Jacques' accent, so I hope I did alright. I've been working on this since way back in August, and I hope you'll enjoy it. And yes, I know the pairing is bizarre. You may have clicked on this only because it sounded so weird. I do still think that it fits in some odd way.**

 **Weird Update On The Author's Personal Life (February 2017): Whew, this one took a while. Mostly because of writer's block, but I also had had a lot of stuff going on in my life. Like, my actual life. Beyond fanfiction. Yeah, I have a life. What else would I give you Weird Personal Updates on?**

 **Update April 2018: Just cleaning some things up and standardizing my authors' notes. It's been a while, and I still can look at this story without cringing, which is good. I had a lot of fun with this one, and I hope you'll enjoy it too.**

 **Now, after six months of false hype, writer's block, and madly scrambling to think of a title, I present to you, Under The Bridge!**

* * *

It had been one month since Sanders had competed in The Ridonculous Race. In that time, she had graduated the Academy and became a full-time police officer. Her partner MacArthur had not been allowed to join her, due to her confessing a long list of crimes during the competition.

Thanks to a little persuading on Sanders's part, MacArthur was given a second chance. She was allowed to work with her if no shenanigans occurred in the next couple months. Despite everything her partner had done, Sanders still wished she could be with her today.

On the other hand, her arm was still broken from when MacArthur had dropped her four miles down a hole. So MacArthur was the reason they weren't out doing something more interesting together. Instead Sanders had ended up here, parked on the side of the road with a radar gun. She was stuck with the worst jobs until her arm healed.

Sanders kept on reminding herself that stopping people from speeding could save lives. And it was better than parking duty. That still didn't stop it from being incredibly boring.

* * *

Jacques was out for a stroll, mostly because Joseé was in one of her moods again. All he did was mention the Race, and his head was nearly taken off with an ice skate. Then when that didn't work, he was chased around by Joseé wielding assorted pieces of furniture.

Up ahead, it looked like there was a bit of a commotion on the side of the road. A blonde girl who looked vaguely familiar- maybe she had competed on Total Drama - was being pulled over. His blood ran cold when he saw the woman who was talking with her.

Jacques had always been kind of nervous around Sanders. While she wasn't as loud or … angry as MacArthur, she was equally capable, and intimidating in a quiet sort of way. Besides, where Sanders was, MacArthur probably was too, and he'd already had one aggressive woman try and kill him that day, thank you very much.

Jacques figured he'd be able to slip by behind the police car without being noticed. As he got closer, he began to hear tidbits of their conversation.

"Ma'am, it doesn't matter how bad of a fashion emergency it is, you still need to pay attention to the road."

"But it was hideous! I had to tell Beth! She's, like, my best friend!", pleaded a nearby voice.

Sanders glanced down at the girl's driver's licence, seeing her name. "Look, um, Lindsay. Just sign this and promise you won't do it again."

"Okay." Lindsay took the form from her and did. She just couldn't shake the feeling that she had seen this cop person before. Then it hit her. "Oh my gosh, I know you! You were on that race show I watched with Tylan! It's like, so cool I'm actually meeting you, Sarah." Sanders considered correcting her, but had a feeling that it was pretty much hopeless. "And that mean ice skater guy is here too! Hi James!" Sanders turned around and sure enough, there was Jacques. He froze as their eyes met, but showed no signs of aggression.

Jacques saw no sign of emotion on Sanders's face, only the cold neutrality of her gaze. "Well, zis is awkward," he said, which he soon realized didn't help. At all.

"No situation is truly awkward until someone says it is." It took him a few moments to realize that Sanders had spoken. In other situations, Jacques would've considered it a joke, but now it felt more like she was reprimanding him.

"I'm, uh, just going to go now."

"Bye James!" Lindsay called cheerfully. He continued on his way, silently willing her to shut up. It didn't work. He could hear her asking Sanders, "What was James doing? I thought you didn't like him." He stopped and listened.

"One, I'm pretty sure 'James' can still hear you and two, I don't. Don't know what he was doing here, especially after everything he did to me and MacArthur," Sanders responded. Just for good measure she added, "He has some nerve coming here. If MacArthur was with me, he'd be lucky to walk away afterwards."

Jacques attempted not to think about what she meant in that last part. Was what they had done really that bad?

Sanders soon regretted her tirade, because Lindsay looked a little intimidated. "You signed the form? You can go."

"Thanks, Sarah!" Lindsay drove away, and almost immediately got back on the phone.

Sanders tried to settle back into her work, but she just couldn't concentrate. Even after everything, she still felt sort of bad. And the poor guy had looked genuinely afraid. "Jacques?"

He turned back warily, expecting MacArthur to jump out of the bushes and try to taze him. Nothing. "Yes?"

She glanced at the dashboard of her car. Just a few more minutes and she'd be done for the day. She could afford to at least be friendly.

"So, how's Joseé?", Sanders blurted, before she could change her mind.

"She's fine, I guess," said Jacques. He added, "Tried to-hit me with zee ceiling fan earlier."

"Somehow I'm not surprised," she said bitterly, remembering the full extent of Joseé's wrath. "What did you do?"

"I brought up zee Race."

Their thoughts were interrupted by the arrival of another police car, which parked near the two of them. "Yo, Sanders, how's it going," called a man from the open window.

She waved back and replied, "Fine, thank you. How are you?"

"Pretty good. Wish I could be busting bad guys, though. Guess we both got stuck with the curbside snore-fest."

"I know, right? You here for your shift?"

"No, I'm going to get donuts. Of course I am! You're done."

"Thank you."

It was then that he noticed Jacques. "Who's this? Is he your man?"

"Um, no. Are you kidding? You watched me in the Race, didn't you?"

He thought for a moment. "Oh, right. You're the guy that screwed up in the Olympics."

"He still got second place," Sanders shot back, almost automatically. "Better than you could do."

"Whatever."

She attempted to defuse the situation in the only way she knew how. "I'm heading off, okay?", she said, a little too quickly. "Bye! And, Jacques? Nice seeing you." Hardly, but what else could she say?

That night, something felt off for Sanders. Had she been too hard on him? Jacques had actually seemed kind of … normal, and pretty friendly. She shouldn't waste time worrying about it, there was nothing she could change.

* * *

The next morning Sanders woke feeling strangely productive. It was pretty much a free day for her, so she decided to go into town and get a cup of coffee, and maybe to bring MacArthur a donut. That was when she saw him. He was constantly looking over his shoulder, almost like he was trying to lose someone who was following him. He hadn't seen her yet; it would be so easy just to slip away and pretend that nothing had happened. She decided against this. At the very least, she owed Jacques an apology.

Jacques was free at last. Joseé was still mad, and he had only managed to avoid her by saying he had to use the restroom at the rink and sneaking off. Then he saw a very familiar police officer from across the street. "Just great," he muttered to himself. "Out of zee frying pan, into zee fire." Hopefully she hadn't seen him yet. Wait- was Sanders waving to him? He hadn't done anything illegal, had he? He reluctantly crossed the street.

"Jacques! Hi. I guess the world just can't keep us apart." She then blushed, realizing the full extent of what she had just said. "So, um, is Joseé still after you?"

"More or-less. I might of ditched her at skating practice."

"That sounds intense."

"I've gotten used to it." Sanders felt a little bad for Jacques. She had gotten enough of Joseé in the Race alone, and could hardly imagine living with her. She said, "I just wanted to say sorry for yesterday. I was giving you a hard time."

"Do not feel bad. It is fine."

Sanders smiled. "Thanks."

"Do you have anything planned for today?"

She shrugged. "Not really."

* * *

Joseé sat down on a bench, watching the other people at the rink. None of them were nearly as good as they were. Well, maybe as good as Jacques, but definitely not her. Jacques was in the bathroom, and she was a little confused as to why he was taking so long. Maybe he had to go Number 2? She was starting to get impatient, though.

* * *

"Are you free to talk?"

"Yeah, I guess," she said cautiously. "Anything on your mind?"

"Nothing in-particular."

"So, what have you been up to lately?"

"Not much. Just training with Joseé. She's been much more competitive since zee Race."

"Is that even possible?" Sanders joked.

Jacques's expression darkened. "Yes, apparently."

"Has she been not taking your loss well?"

"She gets really crazy; she-expects us to be perfect all zee time."

"That's pretty harsh."

"It does-not feel good, being so close to zee gold and missing it twice in a row."

To his surprise, Sanders didn't mention his cheating at all. She only nodded.

"If I had-not dropped Joseé in zee Olympics, we would have won zee gold. It is because of-me zat we failed.

"That must've been hard. No matter you two wanted to win the Race so badly." Sanders tried to keep her tone neutral. She was getting too soft- she needed to hang out around MacArthur more.

"Yes, Joseé and I wanted more zan anything to win; we were-willing to do almost anything." He wasn't quite sure why she was telling Sanders so much. She was being friendly enough, and he wanted to get to know her better.

Jacques thought back to the challenge in Geelong Prison, where he had been locked in the same cell as her. She had been the one to take charge, and worked to get all four of them out safely. At that moment he had realized his admiration for Sanders. She was smart, level-headed, and determined. It had also been a welcome change of pace to work with rather than against the Cadets, and also warranted less of Joseé screaming at him. Since that day, where the Boomerang had forced them into a temporary alliance, he had respected her. After all, anyone who could compete with his own magnificence was worth paying attention to.

Now, seeing her again, Jacques felt genuine fondness for the young officer. If anyone asked, would he consider her a friend? Maybe? It was far more complicated than that. "Acquaintance" didn't sound quite right. Something else? But … he didn't actually like her, though. Did he?

Jacques had experienced a fleeting crush on Joseé at one point, but that all went out the window rather quickly. Along with various cooking implements. Now they acted more like siblings than anything. But he remembered the feeling of it. He had tried to do everything just to impress her, but just ended up a nervous wreck most of the time. This only warranted more objects chucked at his head. The way he felt when he was around her was almost similar. But this time, he was determined for it to be different.

"Jacques? You okay?" Sanders's voice jolted him back into reality.

Three minutes in, and it already wasn't working. "Yes. I-am fine." They fell into silence and continued to walk. It was Jacques, surprisingly, who started the next conversation. He mentioned the Race, about the one thing he knew they had in common. The two of them tried to avoid talking about their rivalry. They instead focused on smaller things, like seeing Don get beaten up by Laurie, what the Surfers might be doing with their million, and their favorite places they got to visit.

"Siberia was nice."

"You're just saying that because you won there," Sanders pointed out.

"True zat. Zee gold is-always welcome."

"Personally, it was way too cold there. And, it's where I got, you know." She held up her arm, showing off her cast.

Jacques cringed. He had forgotten about that. "Does-it hurt?"

She shrugged. "Thanks for asking. It itches sometimes, but it's fine otherwise. It's healing, and I should get the cast off soon."

"Zat-is good."

* * *

Joseé had come to the conclusion that Jacques had ditched her. She stormed out the door, and it wasn't pretty. Overcome with rage, it was a while before she remembered the "Friend Tracker" app on her phone. After seventeen horrible seconds of yelling at the stupid app to load, she found that Jacques was already almost halfway across town. But she would find him, and make him pay. And possibly terrorize some innocent pedestrians while she was at it.

* * *

"Sanders?"

"Yes?"

"Zaire is something I need to tell you. It's important."

"I'm listening."

"You, um, would you consider us … friends?"

"Sure. I mean, it got pretty messy in the Race, but I think that was just because of the competition."

"But could you be - would you want us to be," Jacques struggled, unable to find the words. As soon as he had planned what to say, it just as soon fell apart.

He tried again. "You-are nice, and I want to spend time with you, because I … I-"

It suddenly all made sense. "You … you like me?"

Jacques was caught, a deer in the headlights. But there was nothing else he could do. So he forged on. "Sort of? Okay, I like you. A lot."

MacArthur had overheard some snippets of the recent crimes, and a couple stood out: an anti-Frump protest march gone awry, a lady refusing to be helped cross the street, and a story she found oddly familiar.

"She's gone completely insane, ripping out lampposts!"

"She pushed some baby stroller into a fountain!"

"Yelling about her partner ditching her, how he would cost them the gold."

She gave a vague excuse before bolting. Even if she was technically still only a cadet, this was her fight. She had some unfinished business with this particular person, and what better way to spend her free time than beating up Joseé? At least, she couldn't think of anything better to do with her morning.

The idea seemed ridiculous- ridonculous, even.

Sanders shook her head in bewilderment. She hadn't really given much thought to romance, yet standing in front of her was one of her worst enemies. "How did it start? Why me, of all people?"

"To be honest, I am-not quite sure myself."

"Gee, thanks," she responded playfully.

"I did-not mean it like zat," he quickly protested.

It was then that Joseé caught up with them. She saw Jacques first and locked on to him. Raising a previously uprooted lamppost above her head, she ran headlong at her traitorous partner, ignoring everything else around her. So she was not prepared when she was full-on body slammed. A flash of dark blue caught her eye as the figure expertly sidestepped her weapon. Even worse was the gloating face of her rival as MacArthur stood over her and handcuffed her to the lamp.

When Jacques and Sanders came running, MacArthur drew her taser and turned on the male ice dancer. "You! What do you want? Why was Joseé trying to attack my partner? You'll pay for trying to hurt her!"

Jacques whimpered and shrank away from the stocky cadet as she waved the taser threateningly.

"Stop." Sanders stepped forwards, positioning herself between Jacques and MacArthur.

"Sanders! Get away from him! Or you can help beat him up, I guess. But I kind of want to do that myself."

"MacArthur, please stop," she repeated more strongly. "No one is going to get beaten up. Or tased. I'm sure we can explain."

She reluctantly pocketed the taser. "But you, and Jacques, and Joseé attacking you, and … what were you two doing together?"

"We were just hanging out. I like him, okay." Sanders saw no point in hiding it any longer. She also figured that MacArthur's reaction would be worth it.

"You do?" Jacques asked disbelievingly.

"You- wait, what?" MacArthur looked from her partner, to her rival's annoying sidekick. "You did this to her! There's no way!"

"Did it how," Sanders prompted. "We've worked together for years! Do you think I would fall for that?"

MacArthur dragged Sanders away from the Ice Dancers, looking to get a little privacy in case they were forcing her to say the things she did. Or maybe it was brain control?

But once she saw Sanders's face, she knew that her partner was serious. For once, MacArthur was lost for words. She finally said, "You've got to be kidding me."

"That's exactly what I thought when he first told me."

"I mean, I'm happy for you and all; it's not like guys chase after you like they do me."

"MacArthur!"

"Sorry. Well, as I was saying, seriously? Of all the people, it had to be him?"

"Yeah, I know how weird this must be for you."

"You really believe he's changed?"

"He's a good guy." In the way Sanders intently studied a crack in the sidewalk and brushed nonexistent hair out of her face when talking about him, MacArthur was finally convinced. She needed to give these two some time alone.

"Um, I'm going to go taunt Joseé for a while."

Sanders realized what MacArthur was doing and was grateful. She waved Jacques, who was standing to the side and looking very uncomfortable, over. "Joseé was screaming something about you ditching her," she observed.

"Yeah. I kind-of left her at zee rink."

"You really left her? Why?"

"I-was tired of everything she had done to-me."

"So you stood up to her and left?"

"No, he said he had to go to the bathroom and ran like a coward!" Joseé interjected.

"Permission to tase the offender?" MacArthur asked.

Sanders grinned at her while Jacques nodded grimly. "Permission granted."

MacArthur gave a comical salute and ran off.

"I was-not quite sure if I made zee right decision, but …" Jacques mumbled something, looking at the ground.

"Um, sorry. I didn't catch that."

"But now I-am glad I did. If I chose to stay, I would-never 'ave seen you."

"I'm glad you did too. You and me- I never would have guessed."

Jacques was suddenly aware of Sanders's cool hand in his own, as she pulled him close and gently pressed her lips to his.

Joseé happened to look up at that exact moment. She exchanged horrified glances with MacArthur, who still had a taser pointed at her head. Too shocked to do anything else, she simply stood there next to her rival.

Jacques was smiling, a true smile, not like the forced grin seen by most during the Race. Neither police officer nor ice dancer said anything, but it was a comfortable kind of silence. A barrier had been broken between the two; they finally were able to see beyond their rivalry and accept that they cared for each other.

It was Joseé who felt obliged to break them up. "Jacques, what exactly is going on?" She spoke with cold venom.

"Could you?" MacArthur motioned for Sanders to give them space, then tossed Jacques a key. He caught it and used it to unlock Joseé's handcuffs. Jacques faced her; he had dealt with Joseé for years now and was sure he could handle himself now.

"What on earth were you thinking? You ditched skating! I thought not even rabies could stop you!"

There was no point in arguing with her. Joseé always won. "I-am sorry I ditched practice. Zaire is no excuse for-zat, especially when it is for zee gold."

"Don't try and suck up to me. It won't work." She paused, Jacques looking intimidated. "Look, all I want to know is one thing. What exactly was going through your mind? I just want to understand this … whatever it is."

"I guess I felt … zaire is-more to live zan ice dancing. Aren't-you ever tired of six hours every day?"

Joseé thought about this. Her life had been run by the constant hunger for the gold, every moment dedicated to one day achieving the victory she had longed for. And if it meant spending six hours a day on the rink, then so be it.

Jacques took Joseé's silence as a signal that an outburst was about to occur. "I-am truly sorry. I-know how much zis means to you. To us."

"No, you're right. There are other things in life." Joseé looks to him. "I have just one request. The next time anything like this comes up? Tell me."

"Of course."

Jacques had stuck with her and done everything he could to help their team. She couldn't have asked for a better partner. Even if it meant being around her enemy, she could put up with them if it made him happy. After all, it was the least she could do.

Joseé then pushed Jacques lightly towards Sanders. "Go. Talk to her." It was less of a command than an invitation, for him to know she was fine with it and she wanted him to enjoy himself.

"So, some day, huh?" Jacques cringed inwardly. That sounded bad, didn't it?

"Yeah," Sanders breathed. "Crazy."

"Get back here, Ice Nerd! Come here and let me fine you for property damage!" MacArthur yelled, interrupting the conversation.

"Make me," Joseé said cockily, leaping out of MacArthur's reach. She ran after her with a roar.

Sanders shook her head. "Some things never change."

"Yet zaire are so many things zat do." And with Jacques beside her, she finally knew that, even after everything, she wouldn't have wanted it to happen in any other way.

* * *

 **So, that's (finally) done. Please tell me what you think, even if you hated it. Well, especially if you hated it, so I know how to make it so you don't hate my future work.**

 **Also, a big thanks to my awesome friend and beta reader, slush73212. He's also the one who pushed me to write an actual kiss scene.**

 **A side note, Sanders/Jacques = Sacques = Socks, in my mind, so I've been referring to this story as "Socks" during the time it didn't have a title, which you have to admit is pretty amazing.**


End file.
